Fire Emblem: Founding of Nations
by Slordrevan
Summary: Before Nergal, before the Scouring, the continent had no organized countries, no governments. Humans wandered throughout what is now Lycia, Bern, Illia, Etruria, and Sacae, merely trying to survive against other tribes of men, fighting over grasslands and
1. Chapter 1

**Founding of Nations.**

Chapter 1  
Introduction. 

We know the ending of the Scouring; we know the ending of the Nergal conflict, and the Zephiel conflict. But, do we know the beginnings? No, not the beginnings of the conflicts, but the beginning of Nations, before Nergal, before the Scouring, before civilization thrived. Dragons lived in peace in the western isles, and in the Nabata Forest, Unknown, undiscovered, watching the humans with prime interest. To them, the humans seemed uncivilized brutes whose only interest was making war with one another over simple farmland and hunting grounds. That very well may have been true, until one man, began his quest to end the chaos.

Bernard Krieger, a seemingly simple War-chief, had great ambitions for the mountainous region he called his home. He lived in what is now Bern, among numerous other tribes and villages. Some were allied, some were at war, yet nearly all were against the Krieger tribe. They feared him; they feared his ambition, because it was apparent. He trained the tribe's boys from when they could walk, forcing them to do nearly impossible deeds, training them to become the best soldiers they could. Even with limited resources and iron, he turned his tribe into the greatest fighting force the warring tribes had ever seen, yet, they also had the smallest numbers…as many of their male children were killed in the training process. At age twenty, a male was accepted into the fighting force of Krieger, a honor to be sure.

The Chieftain himself had a son, a lone son by the name of Elibe. By now, Elibe was twenty-two, and well on his way to becoming a fine warrior, liken unto his name. He'd already helped his father in terms of battle plans, positioning soldiers armed with swords and lances into groups of one, a formation that Elibe liked to call a 'Phalanx', and it has proved itself numerous times on the battle field.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
Elibe's Prize. **

Spitzeberg, home of the Krieger tribe, surrounded by palisade walls and towers; Atop of the western tower, a lone man stood, his hazel eyes staring into the ensuing blackness, as the bright sun sank below the earth behind him. His hair was cut short, the color matching his eyes, with streaks of grey running through out it. He body was well-built, muscles rippling, as well as many scars the vulnerary herbs did not heal. An iron sword was sheathed and attached to his left side, and a javelin was in his right hand, an indication that he was always ready to fight, despite his apparent age.

"Chieftain!" a voice cried from below him, and the man smiled as he recognized the voice; Starker, second-in-command to Bernard himself, and a cavalier of great skill. As Bernard turned, Starker came into full view. Starker was a relatively young man, in his early thirties, clean black hair, dark green eyes, and his own share of minor scars. He, like every other male, and some females, in the Krieger tribe was in great shape, utterly required by Bernard in order to fight their best. "What is it?" The Chieftain asked, looking Starker in the eyes, his deep slightly raspy voice filling the upper region of the tower, proof of all the shouts and war cries he had uttered throughout the years. "Elibe sir, he's back from hunting!"

A few weeks ago, Elibe had left with a couple of archers to hunt down the Wyverns that had been slaughtering the tribe's flocks at night, and had been gone so long, many, not Bernard of course, had presumed him dead. Bernard hurriedly followed Starker down the tower expecting to see Elibe alive and well, carrying with him numerous wyvern pelts upon a cart. But what he found, was much more. Behind Elibe, a tall lad with full grey hair, hazel eyes, and very few scars, was a live wyvern, bound by numerous ropes to the wings and legs, held by the archers that had accompanied the chieftain's son. "Father! What do you think?" Elibe shouted out towards Bernard, waving a hand at the muzzled wyvern, smiling widely. "I think you wasted much time capturing this beast!" Bernard replied, a truly astonished look on his face, mostly at the fact that his son had been able to catch a wyvern alive. "The wild women of the north tamed the flying horses, and we have tamed normal horses, why not wyverns? Why not become masters of them, contrary to fearing them? If this works out, just think of the mental superiority we'll have! The enemy sees men upon wyverns, and they could very well surrender without fighting!" Elibe retorted, clearly not backing down. Bernard glanced at his son, over to the wyvern, then towards the forming crowd. "Very well, but if you can't tame this one, you're to give up on your fool-hardy quest, alright?" The Chieftain gave the terms, and Elibe nodded and agreed. The grey-haired lad ran off towards the wyvern, and accompanied the archers to find a suitable place to keep it. As Elibe left, Starker stepped up by Bernard's side. "He's becoming more like you every passing day sir." "Yes, that's what worries me." Bernard concluded, before making his way to his hut, ready to sleep, for he always awoke at dawn.


	3. Chapter 3, Birth of a Legacy

**Chapter 3**

**Birth of a Legacy.**

Bernard woke earlier than usual, a little before dawn. But, it was not because his body was able to get up; it was because the sounds of loud roars filled the entire village, making it impossible to sleep. His first groggy thought was that a wing of wyverns was raiding the flocks, and as he grabbed his javelin and went outside, he found it wasn't the case. A rather large crowd, full of people who couldn't sleep either, was gathered around the source of the roaring, all equipped with their various weapons as well. Bernard made his way towards them, having a feeling as to what was going on. The crowd some-what parted for their war-chief, out of respect and humility, and with no heads and torsos blocking his vision, Bernard saw the source of the commotion.

Elibe was mounted atop the newly captured wyvern, sitting upon a make-shift saddle and reigns, which were probably put on the beast while it was restrained, but at the moment, it had no restraints besides the fact that Elibe was sitting upon it, which angered it greatly. It tried in every way to throw the Chieftain's son off, attempting to hit him with its tail, beating hard of the wings, and even some bucking. It wouldn't take flight in and attempt to throw him off, as it didn't want to give Elibe the satisfaction. Wyverns were intelligent beasts, despite their brutish antics, and even it could respect the human's dedication to hold on, even more so as the beast tired from constant fighting.

Bernard truly wanted to order his son to get down, and have someone else try to tame the beast, but he had agreed to let the boy tame the Wyvern his way, and thus he would keep his word. He didn't see Starker anywhere, but that didn't mean anything. That man had a tendency to blend in with his surroundings, and then come from virtually nowhere.

After quite a few minutes, the total fighting time being near an hour, the wyvern slowed, and finally yielded, laying down in exhaustion; "Throw him some meat!" Elibe called, nigh equally fatigued, trying to catch his breath as he stretched in the saddle. As the village butcher retrieved a freshly slaughtered lamb, and gave it to the wyvern to eat, alongside a bowl of water, Elibe patted it in slight affection. He was more than pleased with the way it turned out, but at the moment, he needed rest. He'd continue the wyvern's training, and talk to his father later, but right now, he though he had earned his sleep.


End file.
